


So Quite New a Thing

by kataurah



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Inspired by Poetry, Introspection, Post-Season/Series 04, Romance, Smut, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataurah/pseuds/kataurah
Summary: Marcus likes his body when it is with her body.
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	So Quite New a Thing

**Author's Note:**

> A re-post of a fic I previously took down. A bit of pretentious waffle inspired by this poem: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1590/i-like-my-body-when-it-is-with-your/

Marcus feels himself transformed when he makes love to Abby. His body becomes an instrument with which he can give and receive not only pleasure, but comfort, solace, peace. Marcus _likes_ his body when it is with her body, which isn't so much a self-deprecating notion as it is the thoughts of a man who has almost always viewed his bones, muscles, skin in a utilitarian sense. He always kept himself fit, strong, healthy for practical reasons rather than vain or hedonistic ones. But being with her, physically loving her, has turned him into someone who can take joy in not only her flesh, but his own.

Yes, he's enjoyed sex in the past, felt things for partners, good and bad, but it all seems like a drop in the ocean compared to what he feels for Abby. It's frightening and overwhelming and it makes him more himself, heightens every sense of awareness, makes his muscles burn and tremble, sets his nerves alight.

It seems cliché to say that their first time together in Polis made him feel like a new man, but he cannot deny the conviction he feels in his bones, nor how the memory of touching and tasting her for the first time - finally skin to skin - is seared into his soul. He took his time learning her, with hungry mouth and shaking fingers. He sought out the secret places that made her shudder and gasp his name, traced the curve of her spine as she arched against him, and revelled in the thrill of her beneath him, above him, surrounding him, the flutter of her muscles as they both flew apart at the seams and were remade again.

Abby is forever perfect to him in her imperfections; the stretch marks and scars and wrinkles she bears tell the story of her life, and Marcus feels privileged that she allowed him to read her and _know_ her. Even those marks he is directly responsible for, still feels a pang of guilt and regret for even though he knows she forgave him practically as soon as it was over. He kissed them over and over again in Polis, mapped her entire body with kisses, as if to make a point for every time her eyes lingered, anguished, a little too long on his bandaged wrists.

For all that he was eager, he was also tentative where now his touch is sure. The first time he slipped a hand down between Abby's legs, watching her face closely for every twitch and sigh, the fluttering of her eyelashes, his fingers stroked softly at first, through wiry, dark hair, damp with wanting him. Until Abby tilted her hips up impatiently ("Marcus, please,") and he parted her slick, hot flesh with a moan of his own. As if sensing his nerves (perhaps nervous herself) her hand covered his, directing his touch, showing him what she liked; where to be gentle and when to press a little firmer, faster.

When she came in his arms, shuddering and clutching at him, he was sure he'd never seen - never _would_ see - anything more beautiful. And when he finally sank inside her, throbbing, trembling, kissing her and kissing her and trying to go slowly until she'd taken him in fully, deeply, he swore nothing would ever compare to the feeling. He has yet to be proven wrong on both counts.

Now they have a well of experience and knowledge of each other's bodies; the excitement and newness that they felt back then has evolved into familiarity and comfort, but that doesn't always make the sex predictable or any less spectacular. They have the advantage now of knowing exactly how to drive each other insane with exquisite precision; how to tease, draw it out... or sometimes _fuck_ , hard and fast, until their muscles are screaming and they can barely breathe, the scent of their mixed arousal and sweat heady in the air. Marcus plays Abby's body expertly, with fingers, lips, tongue and teeth, happy to settle himself between her thighs and work her up to climax with his mouth over and over, savouring her taste, until she's quivering and over-sensitive and dragging him up her body like she can't wait another moment longer to have him inside her.

She wraps herself around him, arms and legs pulling him close, and guides him home.

Their dance, their rhythm, has changed and been perfected over time, but Abby's eyes, the way they pierce his very being, locked with his as their hips move in tandem, remain the same. No one has ever looked at him the way Abby does: like he is loved and cherished and desired intensely all at once; like he is a good man and worthy of her, as he strives to be every day.

Marcus can only hope that she sees all of this and more reflected back at her in his own gaze; that she can feel the reverence in his every caress and how he whispers the depths of his devotion, breathless, into her lips, her skin.

Lost in each other, chasing bliss, they can drown out the harsh realities of their world; they can suspend themselves in a moment where nothing exists but the two of them, their two bodies striving to be joined as one as much as it is physically possible.

Marcus pauses to watch, awed, as Abby reaches that peak, feels the ripples of pleasure sweep through her body, whispers, "I love you," a promise, a _vow_ , before he hastens to follow her. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside her and comes and comes. Heat and sensation are electric currents rushing under his skin and there is only Abby: her body enveloping his, her hands carding through his hair, her voice a low, soothing hum as she murmurs her own adoration.

They lie cradled in each other's arms, and if they hold on a little too tightly, a little desperately, as their way of life floods back into their minds, they both understand. No words are necessary; their fears are the same.

Their future is grim and uncertain, and so much has changed since those brief days in Polis when they managed - despite everything - to carve out a little happiness for themselves. But Abby, and his love for her, is Marcus' constant; he can only hold on and hope that they always remain.


End file.
